


Collar Full

by smallerontheoutside (theinvisiblequestion)



Series: Playlist [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisiblequestion/pseuds/smallerontheoutside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke finds a note in the pocket of her jeans.</p><p>(Inspired by Panic! at the Disco's song of the same name.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collar Full

So far, Clarke has found a dollar and thirty-four cents in change, three gum wrappers, and the lid to a ballpoint pen in the pockets of her jeans. She’s really bad about cleaning out her pockets before she undresses, but at least she remembers to clean them out when she finally gets around to doing laundry. She pulls the last pair of jeans out of the hamper, the ones she wore to the bar. There are black smears on them, mostly on the thighs, and she heaves a sigh. If she liked these jeans any less, she’d probably throw them out, but as it is, she’s going to have to presoak them. She digs through the pockets, and finds a scrap of paper with a note scrawled in a handwriting she doesn’t recognize. It has a phone number on it, and the message:  _You should know I’m not_ _actually_ _a vegetarian. - B_

Clarke shoves the other pairs of pants into the washing machine and starts it. She puts the lid back on her hamper and tucks it into the corner; she’ll deal with the paint-stained jeans and everything else later. For now, she flicks the basement lights off and hurries up the stairs. Even in nice, new, well-built houses like theirs, the basement isn’t a very inviting place.

Her esteemed mother has invited guests for dinner, although who the hell has dinner guests on a Monday is beyond Clarke. It’s a ploy to get Clarke in the same room as a suitor, obviously, so Clarke wears the most conservative dress she owns: a loose, draping dress with a high neckline and a flowing skirt, cinched at the middle with a belt. She pairs it with the most unassuming necklace she can get away with wearing, a couple of thin wire bracelets, and a pair of stud earrings. She feels a little stupid wearing shoes in her own house, but she puts on a pair of shiny black flats anyway. She plays with her hair in the mirror for a while, and then leaves it down, except for two little braids at her temples.

The doorbell rings as she’s tying off the braids, and she knots them together behind her head before she goes downstairs. Their guests tonight are old Mr. Wallace and his creep of a son, Cage. (Seriously, who names a kid _Cage_?) Clarke’s actually rather fond of Dante Wallace, or at least she was until he and Clarke’s mother came up with this stupid ploy to throw Clarke and Cage together. Cage, ever the gentleman, kisses Clarke’s hand, and she reminds herself that it’s only good hygiene to wash up before dinner.

“Clarke, looking lovely as ever,” he says, and Clarke gives him the tiniest wordless acknowledgement she can get away with. After they’ve made their greetings and Clarke’s mother has taken the Wallaces into the parlor, Clarke excuses herself. She goes up to her bathroom to wash her hands, and the note from Bellamy is sitting on her vanity. She tucks it into the strap of her bra, where she can feel its torn edge against her collarbone like a feather-light kiss—

Clarke turns the tap on cold and scrubs Cage Wallace off her hands, then goes downstairs and suffers through three courses of her mother, Mr. Wallace, and his creepy son. Her mother calls for coffee and dessert, and when Abby says _dessert_ , Cage gives Clarke a smirk, and Clarke knows exactly what kind of dessert _he’s_ thinking of. She excuses herself, tells her mother she’s not feeling well, and goes up to her room again, this time to put on a pair of sneakers and get the hell out of this house. She tucks her phone into her coat pocket—she’ll text her mother when she’s safely away from the house—and drives into town. She parks across the street from the club, walks up to Bellamy’s apartment, and bangs on the door. The guy who answers is a tall, skinny thing with oversized safety goggles perched on top of his head and a video game controller in one hand.

He smiles shyly, but before she can tell him what she wants, he turns around and yells, “Bellamy! Your lady caller has arrived!”

Clarke hears the sound of a door, followed by angry footsteps. Bellamy’s in sweats and a t-shirt, and he looks like he’s been doing nothing all day. “Jasper, I swear to God—Oh. Clarke. Hey.”

Clarke reaches into her collar and yanks out the note. “Really?”

Bellamy gives her the stupidest smirk, one that she just wants to wipe right off his stupid face. “Is that an issue?”

Clarke forgets for half a moment that the note told her he wasn’t vegetarian. She rolls her eyes. “In my _pocket_?”

Bellamy glances at Jasper, who’s still standing in the living room, and then shuffles Clarke inside and shuts the door. “I think maybe we should talk about this… elsewhere.”

Once they’re in Bellamy’s room, Clarke repeats her question.

“You’re dressed up,” he says. “Party?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Yes, in your pocket. Where else was I going to put it?”

“Somewhere I’d have noticed might have been a good start. My hand, maybe?”

Bellamy shrugs. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” He stares at her, his eyes squinting a little. “But you’re _really_ pissed about a stupid scrap of paper.”

“Not everyone checks their pockets before they do laundry, Bellamy.”

“Nice try, princess.” Bellamy plucks the little note from her fingers. He gives her a quick smirk and then gets serious. “Come on. What’s up?”

Clarke shrugs. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” That’s why she’s here, of course. Well, that’s part of it. The other part is her inner rebel child resisting her mother’s attempts to force a _suitable match_ on her.

Bellamy tucks the note back into her collar, kissing her neck while he’s in the vicinity. He’s trying the tenderness thing, but Clarke just wants to forget about her mother and old Mr. Wallace and that slimy son-of-a-bitch they’re trying to set her up with.

(When they’re laying half-asleep and sweaty under the blankets, Bellamy presses a tender kiss to her head. It isn’t until after she leaves that he realizes he’s fallen… hard.)


End file.
